


you've been lonely

by PrimroseReality



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:19:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimroseReality/pseuds/PrimroseReality
Summary: It’s a longing you’ve never felt before, wanting to know Trini, that’s been there since the beginning of all this, and there’s nothing clouding it, none of the jealousy you used to feel towards Amanda as you divulged façade level secrets to one another, or the way Ty made you feel when he looked at you, the weight of your knowledge that in the end you could get anything from him. That’s all over though. And it’s too many hypotheticals and there’s too much on the line now to think whether you would do it all again, sending the picture to Ty. You like to think that you’d have found all of them anyway, her new family. You know it’s probably a lie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The poem towards the end is Juventud by Pablo Neruda- I'm going to translate it in the next chapter, but you're welcome to check it out if you want.  
> Just a note to say I don't think Trini's last name is Kwan, but using it for now until we get a sequel! Thanks for reading!

You wondered right after if it was the haze of alcohol. A pleasant heaviness to your head but a lightness in your movements as you danced playfully against Jason. And you’re all surprised Trini acquiesced and came with you because she saves smiles and softness for all of you but a party is a throng of heaving teenage hormones and that’s exactly when Trini retreats, from all of you. You hate when she feels far away like that. From across the room you watch her and Zack play some sort of shot came with Billy helpfully keeping score. It feels all very normal high school to you like you could turn around and it be three months ago with you on the top of the social ladder. But then she grabs your hand, dances like no one’s watching, which thinking that makes you inwardly roll your eyes, but it’s true you’ve never seen Trini so free and your hands are enclosed together and the heaviness in your head drops right to your stomach. So maybe it was the alcohol, maybe. 

It’s all you can think about as you toss and turn for nights after. The sleep you do get is full of flashes of Trini, some just the normal parts-- her walking down the hallway and smiling quickly at you, her punching Zack in the face in the pit, her taking a bite of a doughnut. Then there’s the more fuzzy moments where you swear you can feel the weight of her palm in yours. 

It’s a longing you’ve never felt before, wanting to know Trini, that’s been there since the beginning of all this, and there’s nothing clouding it, none of the jealousy you used to feel towards Amanda as you divulged façade level secrets to one another, or the way Ty made you feel when he looked at you, the weight of your knowledge that in the end you could get anything from him. That’s all over though. And it’s too many hypotheticals and there’s too much on the line now to think whether you would do it all again, sending the picture to Ty. You like to think that you’d have found all of them anyway, her new family. You know it’s probably a lie. 

In the beginning you would have honestly said you thought you’d end up with Jason. It fit the narrative, the image you’d always carefully allowed people to see. Jason had always been around, sure you hadn’t exactly intimately socialized, but you were part of a Venn diagram that had multiple intersections, albeit often alcohol induced. Still before everything you had never been interested in that way, or even tempted, like so many of the other cheerleaders were, to know Jason. And some would say this was an opportunity, yes he’d fallen from grace but he still was respected at school, certainly more than you are. Not that that was particularly difficult. But then there’s the moment where Trini grabs your hand replaying again and again, as a sheen of sweat covers your body. 

After everything with Rita the five of you all start hanging out at school, detention, lunch, checking on each other in the hallways, even Zack commits to consistency. It’s different with Trini though, like she’s still keeping you all at arm’s length. At school there’s always some combination of smirk or sneer carefully placed on her face. She comes to training, but she is the first one to toss a short goodbye over her shoulder then start running. You’ve never wanted to follow anyone more. 

Trini can’t avoid you in Biology. Yes, you’ve both remained in your predetermined social seating because Amanda may have named you persona non grata, but you had other friends too who don’t like Amanda, and it’s for all those horrible high school reasons of jealousy, still you appreciate their soft smiles and light questions about the homework. Every now and then you dare to look over your shoulder at Trini. Most of the time she’s taking detailed notes. Once and a while you can feel her eyes on your back so you can turn around to just catch the snap of Trini’s eyes to the notebook in front of her, a pen dashing across the page faster than it should, a notebook Trini slams closed as soon as the bell rings, haphazardly throwing it in her bag in an attempt to bypass all the idle chat that always accompanies the end of class. 

You catch her this time, literally catch her, your hand gripping at a tense bicep as you both employ your ranger strength. Your heart is beating so fast in your chest and you’re grateful for the material separating your hand from pure Trini skin. Trini gives up first. “Jeeze Hart, that’s going to bruise,” Trini says, rubbing her bicep as you slowly remove your grip just to make sure she won’t flee. She opens up her arms, “Well you have me, now what do you want?”

“I think we should study for bio together,” Trini looks dumbly back at you, “The exam, on Monday, we have an exam.”

“I am aware. I study alone.”

“Come on, we can help each other.” It feels like grasping at straws to you, like you can actually see Trini losing interest, fiddling with her phone, itching to put her headphones on, and escape from you. You just want Trini to want to stay. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you tease with eyebrows wiggling.

Exasperatedly Trini throws her hands up, “Fine Hart, but you owe me and I’m not sharing my notes.” 

“What kind of girl do you think I am Trini? Note sharing, how risqué.”

“Shut up Kim.” Trini jostles your shoulder before beginning to put her headphones on until she notices you still watching her. You can’t help watching Trini these days, find your eyes wanting to explore all the curves of Trini. “Is there something else?”

“No, no, I’ll see you later at the pit?” You ask, stupidly already knowing the answer.

“As if our fearless leader would have it any other way.” The headphones go on now and with a mock salute Trini disappears into the throngs of teenagers. 

And you want so much to follow her, but you have French and Trini has something in the opposite direction, you’re already in DEFCON 1 with your parents so skipping class is not in the cards. You’ll just have to wait. The hours between Trini have become like the itch you get sometimes right under your shoulder. No matter how flexible you are you’ll never be able to reach it. For the first time in your life you think you may have no idea how to scratch. 

You follow Trini home from the pit. Though you can tell she’s trying to hide it she’s limping slightly from a particularly vicious kick combination from Billy and winces almost imperceptibly every time she moves too quickly. “We don’t have to study tonight Trini if you need to ice that.”

“I don’t need to ice anything.” You know Trini enough from that tone to not fight her on this as you find yourself in front of Trini’s home. There are bikes and sport equipment strewn on the front lawn in something like suburban bliss. “Don’t say anything to my mom.” You nod as she opens to door with a slight look of fear on her face. 

Right as you walk in you hear a voice worriedly greeting her from the kitchen that soon joins them at the bottom of the stairs. This is obviously Trini’s mother, they have the same exploring eyes. You immediately break the only rule Trini gave you as you offer your hand, “Mrs. Kwan, it’s so lovely to meet you I’m Kimber…”

“Kimberly Hart,” Mrs. Kwan interrupts you with a warm smile as she looks Trini up and down. “You probably don’t remember, but your mother introduced us at the cheerleading car wash.”

You nod more enthusiastically than you should, “Of course, you’re on the PTA too!”

“More at the elementary school with the boys, unlike Trini they can stand to have me around.” There’s a bite to the comment as Mrs. Kwan looks at Trini who seems to redden as you speak. “What are you and Trini doing?”

“I’m Kim’s biology tutor.” Mrs. Kwan’s face falls, as if to say of course Kim wouldn’t be her actual friend and here to just spend time with her, you wonder if it stings Trini as much as it does you. “So that’s what we’re going to go do in my room—biology.” Mrs. Gomez simply nods, offers you food if you need it, which Trini quickly refuses for the both of them and then leads you up to her room. 

The remnants of Rita are still everywhere, a roughly patched up wall, a block of wood making Trini’s bed level, and a painfully head sized hole on the other side of the room that you think she’s trying to hide with a poster and failing at. Other than this the room is surprisingly clean and organized, mostly devoid of bits of Trini. They’ve all started wearing their colors more and more now, you even went out and bought a pink duvet that horrified your own mother, but you scan the room for yellow and only see it on the beanie carefully placed on Trini’s bureau.

Trini is organizing her desk after you’ve made your scan of the room. You pick up the only rebel book not in an organized pile and start to flip through it. “This is a book on Multivariate Calculus Trini.”

“Your point?”

“Are you taking the highest possible math at Angel?”

“Yes.”

“I had no idea.”

“Why would you?”

“Because Trini, we’re friends.” Maybe you get a grunt in return to that as she begins organizing index cards by color. “What other classes do you take?”

She sighs, “Multi, AP Biology, AP Physics, AP Micro, AP Lit, and Latin II.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Is that why you knew Billy before?”

“He’s on Science Team.”

“And you’re on Science Team?”

“I dabble. Math club is more my scene.” She’s smiling now, just in the left corner, teasing you, and you think you just might swoon, if you knew what swooning felt like, which you’re not sure you do it just must feel something like this when Trini smiles around you. And you can feel the weight of her palm against yours as she passes you a freshly printed review sheet. “Let’s start with dynamic homeostasis and check back in after living systems.” You nod because you’re not exactly sure what else to do.

You study parallel to one another for two hours, honestly the best studying you’ve done in a while. Usually your mom is hovering over your shoulder since your parents are doctors and that’s the ultimate goal for you too, it’s been a carefully laid plan your whole life, one you’ve only started to poke holes in within the last few weeks, you’re not sure the holes can ever be filled. Here you can ask Trini questions about something you can’t quite understand and she’ll explain it slowly, finding the exact right thing to show you on her computer or in the book. Sometimes she’ll nod vigorously and say that yeah, Mrs. Reed, their teacher, hadn’t explained that as well as she should’ve and here’s a better explanation she found in a video. She’s open in a different way when she’s doing this, confident you think. It’s beautiful. 

You think you might feel shame. Shame at not knowing this side of Trini, just going along with the crazy girl, back of the class vision Trini has obviously carefully crafted. Of course they’re in AP Bio together so you should’ve probably tried to know that you were wrong, and that just makes you feel more shame. 

After the two hours pass you drop your head to the floor. “I am biology now Trini, I think I might start bleeding from my eyes.” She just looks up, smiles softly at you, then goes back to whatever index card she’s looking at. You take that as a sign that you’re allowed to explore, standing up and walking around her room. You know she’s watching you, you like the heaviness of her eyes on your form as you pull books out of her bookcase. “What’s your favorite?”

She pretends she hadn’t been watching, had been focused on the now discarded note in front of her. “Favorite what?”

“Favorite book.”

“I don’t know,” she reddens sheepishly rubbing her hand on her neck. You want to be that hand you realize with a force in the base of your stomach. 

“Give me one.”

“It’s not in English.”

“Spanish or Latin?” You ask and you know you’re pushing the level of teasing before it goes into the territory of flirting, but maybe you are flirting.

“Spanish and it’s poetry. Neruda.”

“Read it to me,” you say, tossing the thin paperback of 100 Neruda poems to her.

“Which poem?”

“Any of them, all of them.”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“It’s called a break, ever heard of it?”

“No, actually I haven’t.”

“There’s the Miss Sarcasm I know.”

“Ok, one poem.”

“Fine, one.” She thumbs through the copy, which you can tell she’s done maybe hundreds of times before, only catching quick glimpses of annotations and ear marked pages. She clears her throat:  
“Un perfume como una acida espada   
de ciruelas en un camino,   
los besos del azucar en los dientes,   
las gotas vitales resbalando en los dedos,   
la dulce pulpa erotica,   
las eras, los pajares, los incitantes   
sitios secretos de las cases anchas,   
los colchones dormidos en el pasado, el agrio valle verde   
mirado desde arriba, desde el vidrio escondido:   
toda la adolescencia mojandose y ardiendo   
como una lampara derribada en la lluvia.”

You sit in silence, she lets you hold her gaze, both of you just staring at each other and you almost unconsciously lean in and she’s leaning too, your hands reaching, grasping for her cheeks. They never reach, a knock comes quickly at the door and Trini scrambles away from you, the book falling to the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat girls? You’ve been in there for a while.”

“We’re fine.” You can tell Mrs. Kwan wants to say something else, but she stops herself for some reasons and descends back down the stairs. “I have to work on a Latin translation now, you can take the review sheet with you, but I’m not going to be any help anymore.” It’s a thinly veiled request for you to leave, you know that. You want to say no, read you another poem, lean back into you, still you know she’s closed off again, even if a red hue remains on her cheeks from moments before, so you say your goodbyes and descend into the cool night with a thank you to Mrs. Kwan over your shoulder.

The words that flew from Trini’s mouth sear your skin, it’s almost painful the longing that they’ve left there to hear them again, and again, and again. It hurts wanting someone, no, wanting Trini, like this.


	2. Trini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Neruda has infiltrated your brain with words that tell you a story that will never happen. It’s a dull ache the reminder that no matter how much you fight it you want Kim. Instead of allowing it to overtake you a fight rages within you. Melodrama beyond belief the likes of which you, a practical, albeit at times emotional, driven teenager, never allow yourself to feel. Yet, this is something uncontrollable as much as you try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you asking for a Trini chapter so here you go! I think now I'll switch between every other. Thank you for all the comments and kudos-- it got this chapter written.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Neruda has infiltrated your brain with words that tell you a story that will never happen. It’s a dull ache the reminder that no matter how much you fight it you want Kim. Instead of allowing it to overtake you a fight rages within you. Melodrama beyond belief the likes of which you, a practical, albeit at times emotional, driven teenager, never allow yourself to feel. Yet, this is something uncontrollable as much as you try. 

The whole thing is terribly impractical as Kimberly Hart decides to be your friend. To be tactile with you, to keep her body close to you, to watch you, and to not look away when your eyes meet. She holds your gaze in what you can only choose to describe through the adverb of bravely, perhaps boldly. Questions come from her mouth whenever you find each other alone together, accidentally for you clearly attempt to evade that very situation. It feels like exhaling letting someone finally know things about you, connect the dots as it were, and of course there’s panic, searing your skin with sweat whenever you let Kim in more than you intend. Most of it you can’t stop. Somehow Kim retrieves a copy of your schedule from the front office. Dangling it in front of your face, she cockily states that now you can’t run from her. It’s true too, the way she finds you in between classes, sometimes not even saying anything just raising her left eyebrow as if to say—your move. How does she do it? The question that’s really in your head is why?

And then Kim kisses you. Everything before is a blur. If you had a friend to tell it to you’re sure you would mix it all up, tell it all wrong. Of course you could tell Zack, even trust that if you asked he would tell no one, take it to his grave, however, he is Zack and she is Kim and you’re all so interconnected at this point that it terrifies you. Additionally, you’re not sure you don’t have some sort of inoperable brain tumor that is causing you various visions. Still you’re quite sure she kissed you, in her kitchen, her two hands on either side of your face, one freezing cold from the ice that had been carefully placed by you on it. 

It all started when Kim broke her hand. She missed Jason and went full force into a rock face and you all heard the shattering before you saw Kim’s knees give out. You think that even she might not have realized how bad it was until seeing all your faces wincing down at the protruding wrist bone. Alpha goes into Alpha mode, straight to the medical bay, no matter Kim’s insistence that it will heal soon enough, just let her go home. 

Fitted with a sling and seemingly more vexed than pained you’re tasked with making sure Kim doesn’t do anything stupid on her way home. It’s more process of elimination than anything. Zack needs to give his mom her medicine, Billy is Jason’s ride, et cetera, et cetera. 

That’s how you find yourself in Kimberly Hart’s kitchen rifling through her fridge while she wines painfully adorably, declaring her anger that you let them convince you that she needs to be taken care of. “Kimberly, I’m going to get you this ice pack no matter how much you moan and groan, so I don’t exactly know what you think will be achieved by this try out for the school play.”

“Was that your way of saying I am being dramatic?” Kim asks you, accepting the ice pack offered. You know you’re reddening and you know the way she is saying it is flirtatious, the same tone you’ve watched her employ countless times with other’s, not you though, never you, or maybe you just never noticed. “That was partially poetic. Your prose could use some flowering.” You stay quiet as you move the ice pack a bit to make sure it’s covering her wrist. It’s now that she betrays the pain she’s truly in, wincing down at the somewhat retreating black and blue mess in front of her. “It hurts,” she almost inaudibly shares.

“I know.” She catches your eyes at this, holds you to her with her unflinching gaze. For the first time you don’t pull away. No matter how you redden and squirm you can’t look away. And it’s crazy to think that this could mean what you think it means. You would be lying if you hadn’t thought about the evening you remember in your head as the night of Neruda. Neruda can make people lust for the closest thing to them and that’s all that was happening, you’re not even sure that Kim reached out for you like you replay it in your head. An illusion mixed with ribosomes and Latin declamations. 

Finally, she speaks, still the same quietness of before, “Trini.” You nod, confirming that you can hear her. “I think you may be the most exquisite person I’ve ever met.” Here is when you drop her gaze, unable to fight the tumble of nerves and embarrassment that flow through you. With her good hand Kim reaches out to tip your chin back up, shaking her head back and forth all the while. “No,” and it’s the whine again from before yet there’s a different dissonance to it, a plea not from pain but from something you don’t recognize. “Let me look at you.” So you let her, while not letting your eyes meet her own. It may be the most intimate action of your life, letting someone simply explore you with their eyes. When she appears to be pleased with her expedition she speaks again, “I want to know everything about you.” You barely have any time to melt into the floor as you assume you might be doing before she grasps either side of your head with her hands, attempting to hide the wince that accompanies this action, and kisses you.

A kiss like this you want to remember, play it in slow motion again and again, feel the way Kim’s lips envelop your bottom lip, nipping softly at it. It only lasts a moment before Kim pulls away and you feel the sweet drip of her laughter enter your bloodstream, “You can open your eyes Trini.” Following the command, because you can now admit that you would never be able to deprive Kimberly Hart of anything, you open to see her smiling what you think you can only describe as bashfully at you. “Say something.”

“Do you want me to read to you?”

She exhales at this, a small soft gasp, the pupils of her eyes expanding, “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

You nod and she releases her hands from your face to allow you to retrieve a battered English translation of Neruda from your long discarded bag. You’ll admit you’ve been carrying it around since that evening. Here you realize that Neruda wrote love poems, no Red Wheelbarrow here, no masking it, so you flip the pages before reaching one that doesn’t hold too many declarations, doesn’t have too much weight to it, doesn’t betray the flood of emotions inside you. Clearing your throat, you begin, “This is called I Remember You as You were:

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.  
You were the grey beret and the still heart.  
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.  
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant  
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.  
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.  
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:  
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house  
Towards which my deep longings migrated  
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:  
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!  
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.  
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.”

After you finish you get your second kiss from Kimberly Hart. This one is different, less soft, hungrier you’d describe it, her hands find your hair and flick at the shell of your ear. When she finally pulls away, your heart hammering, your jagged breaths matching Kim’s, you know you’re absolutely completely fucked. So you feel something akin to terror after Kimberly Hart kisses you the second time because the realization is crystal clear that you’ll never tire of the way Kim kisses you, or even the way she looks at you after she kisses you as she is right now. You crazily feel the prick of tears at the corners of your eyes, a sting, a reminder that teenage affection ebbs and flows and you’re being crazy to think that you want Kim to kiss you forever. Nevertheless, you crave it already. 

Kim looks at you quizzically, her head cocked to the side. “Is this ok?”

“What?”

“The kissing stuff.”

“I.. uh…” Words are cement in your mouth, only the wrong ones winning in your head. “I like the kissing stuff.”

“Good.” A beat then where a Cheshire cat like smile erupts on her face, a triumphant smile you’ve only seen before when she lands a spectacular hit. “I like the kissing stuff too. If I’m being honest I haven’t been able to sleep since you read to me.” Desire pools hot and fast in the pit of your stomach, if it hadn’t been there already, now you notice it, feel it heavy within you. 

Then you notice the way she cradles her hand still, read the discomfort evident in her face whenever she moves too quickly. “You need to take care of your hand.”

She shrugs, “And I can’t do that and do the kissing stuff?”

“Kimberly,” you warn, albeit knowingly unconvincingly, “You need to take care of yourself.” There’s an undercurrent of unsaid words here that you see Kimberly happily react to, words like I need you to take care of yourself, I need you. It’s already true, how long has it been true you ask yourself. Only since the kiss? No, that doesn’t feel right. You’ve fought it but there’d been moments when you’d felt so pulled into Kim’s orbit that you couldn’t even pretend to fight it. Probably since she asked you for water you know, it had been clear then that you would give her anything. 

That’s how you kiss Kim for the first time. A teasing knowing smile on her face that declares that she knew you couldn’t resist her. She pulls you closer, in between her sitting legs, follows the line of your jawline this time, finding the shell of your ear with your tongue, whispering into it, “I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.” You whimper uncontrollably at this and can feel that triumphant smile at your ear. “I’ve been doing some reading of my own, do you like it?” You can only nod your head in acknowledgement, which only grows her smile as she dips her hand just barely under your shirt to graze her nails against the skin above your right hip bone.

You barely hear the sound of the garage opening until Kim extricates her hand, pecks you quickly on your lips then moves to the fridge. You are dumbly rooted to your spot when assumingly Mrs. Hart walks through the door talking about something seemingly medical on the phone. She nods at Kim, looks you up and down before moving into the next room. “My mother,” Kim offers as she leans against the fridge. 

“I assumed.”

“Haven’t you heard Trini, assuming makes an ass out of you and me.”

“Oddly enough Kimberly I have never heard that expression, did you come up with that yourself?”

She laughs and then stops short. “Unfortunately, the appearance of mother Hart means you should probably go. She’ll be down to instruct me exactly how to complete my homework in t minus four minutes and I don’t want you to be in the path of her wrath.”

“A rhyme, you may be a poet already.”

“And you didn’t even know it. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Text me.” Her eyes dart to the doorway before she kisses you quickly on the cheek.

You stupidly salute, something that later you’ll replay in your head along with Kim’s small laugh at the gesture. As you walk into the cool crisp night you can still feel the pressure of Kim’s nails on your stomach, long for the heaviness. You’re so fucked.


	3. getting heavy pressed against your arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing is it’s not a welcome distraction wanting Trini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Adore by Amy Shark

You suppose now you have a name to it, this feeling in the pit of your stomach that has settled there since Trini grabbed your hand. You’ve always loved having crushes, the chase, the act of being chased, the delicate dance that follows. Yet it’s so different here. And you thought you’d fallen before, when you pressed your nose into his chest you felt calm and content. This is so different if that was a calm this is a relentless current that beats you down, again and again, letting you only take one gulp of breath before sending you back down again into its depths. So maybe you don’t know what you’re feeling, however, you’ll let yourself feel the want for Trini. Let yourself know that you don’t simply want to get to know her, that when you close your eyes you can see her leaning towards you again, feel her lips, the rake of your fingernails down her stomach, the softness in the shell of her ear.

The thing is it’s not a welcome distraction wanting Trini. As your parents remind you constantly you need to be focused. They can’t even begin to scratch the surface of what’s going on with you. Truthfully you don’t want them to be upset with you. There’s always been the pressure of being you, the pressure that they craft, use to their advantage, point you out in a crowd with pride, admonish you when you daintily put a toe out of the line. 

Still they don’t notice or hear Trini lifting herself into your bedroom tonight, only lightly knock on the door when there’s a crash and easily accept that you were stretching. You couldn’t care less because Trini’s here and of course you’ve seen each other since you kissed her in your kitchen, but there’s always been people around with their probing eyes and she always finds her way away from you. 

Trini’s eyes explore everywhere except for where you sit on the edge of your bed. She nods her head to acknowledge that she actually sees you while shrugging off her backpack. In many ways your room is the chaos in antithesis to Trini’s organized room. When picking outfits you flip clothes onto the floor, letting them bunch up and collect on the ground. There’s discarded pieces of homework, old cheerleading workouts, photographs torn from the board above your bed. There is only one framed photograph in the room and Trini seems to be drawn to it, her eyes going back to it as she lifts books up and unconsciously stacks them in a pile. “That’s Tommy,” you offer. She nods. “He was a senior last year.”

“He was in my Spanish class. I didn’t know you were friends.”

You want to simply nod, shrug it off, say yes, friends. That’s not fair to Tommy and the intake of breath you still feel yourself take whenever anyone brings him up. You thought you’d never want to be with anyone like you wanted to be with Tommy. It was a physicality that you were embarrassed to talk to your friends about. Desire plain and simple. And desire like that felt adult. Not just pawing at each other in the back of a car, drunkenly fumbling off pieces of clothing in the bathroom at a party like your friends talked about on Monday mornings in the lunch room. Tommy looked at you with a heaviness in his eyes that made it hard to stay away from him. You were certain that you would never like anyone like that again, yet here’s Trini awkwardly shuffling back and forth looking at a picture of your arms tight around Tommy’s waist in full prom regalia. And your parents think it’s all a reaction to not having Tommy’s good influence in your life, the haircut, the late nights, the quitting of cheerleading, and it hurts that that feels like they think so less of you- that your good and bad decision making skills are entwined with your relationship with a boy, even if that boy is soft and kind and always told you how smart you were, believed it, boy nonetheless. They’ll probably think Trini is a reaction to that. Trini’s so much more than that and you want her to know that without telling her how much you loved Tommy, how much you still love him and miss him, even if he’ll come back from college, even if he’s not gone forever. You want to say all of that while telling her that you haven’t felt like yourself since he left, that you still don’t feel like yourself, especially with her, because if you’re being honest and frank you’ve never felt like this before. So you say the simplest way to describe him, “Tommy’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Again she nods, not betraying any sort of reaction, “How long did you two date for?”

“About a year and a half, give or take.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I suppose it was.”

“Especially in high school years.”

“Do those work like dog years?” Finally, she turns to you and smiles, shaking her head like you’ve said the stupidest thing in the world and she can’t help but look at you, you don’t want her to stop looking at you. You tap the bed next to you. “Will you sit with me?”

“I thought we were doing homework together?” Still she comes sits by you as you turn your body so that you’re looking at the side of her face. She lets you stare for a little while before the squirm starts in her toes and travels up to the redness in her cheeks. “You’ve got stare on your face Hart.”

“Can’t help it. The stare is powerless when it comes to you.”

“Kimberly…” she whimpers your name like it’s a warning to you that you can’t say things like that to her, it’s too much. Truthfully, you want Trini to be putty in your hands, crave the power you feel when she warns you like that. Instead you take your power in other ways, burying your hand in her hair, feeling the strands fall between your fingers, escaping down the side of her face, trailing down her neck so you can feel her quickening pulse, the goosebumps on her arms, the shivers down her spine. 

Always you’ve expressed yourself physically. You like tangibility when you can feel the power your touch has. Trini may be able to control the emotions on her face, but her body betrays her to you, shows you how she wants you to touch her like this, touch her more. And how you want more, to lick a path from her chin to her belly button, you can control yourself for now, remind yourself not to overwhelm her as you finally put your lips on Trini’s. 

With Tommy you sought power over him, basking in the way you could turn him into putty into your hands, taking control. With Trini it is different you are slow, deliberate, careful, thinking out each movement before you make it. A foreign ache vibrates through your body, it’s not used to being denied a release. You let it have a little win by pushing yourself up so that you’re hovering over Trini’s lap, a knee on either side of her. She looks up at you with glowing eyes that tightens your chest until you might cry. For the first time you break eye contact with her, burying your lips into her neck. 

You chase the rapidly healing hickies on her neck until Trini flips you around so she’s the one above you. You don’t know if you’d choose kissing Trini or having her look at you like this if someone forced you. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” She blanches after she says it, like she didn’t expect it to come out. 

You hold her cheek in your hand slowly pushing it back to where you can catch her eye sight again. “Trin, look at me.”

“Mierda.”

You place your thumb against her bottom lip, “Say it again.” Her eyes widen but she acquiesces, slower this time, letting her the tip of her tongue brush your thumb as she rolls her r. “Say something else.”

“Estoy aterrado.”

“What does it mean?”

“I’m terrified.”

“Of me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You could ruin me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You already are.” Ever so gently she takes your hand and places it on her heart. You can feel the hammering quickness against your palm. You pull her other hand to you and place it on the bare skin above your heart. The beats certainly don’t match in their erratic rapidity, but they fit together, against each other. 

At her awed expression, you surge forward and kiss her deliberately and slowly before pulling away to look at her. “I meant it when I told you I want to know everything about you.” You pull the kicked off sheets and duvet up over both your heads so all you can see is Trini in a sea of white. “Now we’re just going to lay here together, ok?”

“Ok.”

That night you ask Trini every question you can ask her and she reddens and stutters and she’s sarcastic and sometimes avoids your eyes and there’s not always straight answers and there’s so much more you want to ask and to know about her, but it’ll do for the night, especially when finally falls asleep exhaustedly letting you press your lips against the back of her neck.

Three days later Zack warns you that if you ever hurt Trini he will punch you as hard as he can in the stomach, also to not tell Trini because he wasn’t supposed to let it slip that he knows about the two of you, seriously that’s his girl and if you do anything at all that ever makes her cry even one tear it’s the end of your stomach as you know it. And although you laugh at him and assure him that it’s the last thing you would ever do you know part of it is a lie, maybe not a lie, you’re not even sure what to describe it as, uncertainness perhaps, it plays in your head again and again Trini telling you that you could ruin her. Even if you hate it you know that it’s true about this no matter how hyperbolic it is. This thing between you, nameless as it is right now, could ruin the two of you and if you’re ruined it’s not simply the two of you it’s a field of unintended consequences and casualties in your collapse. Therein lies the terror. Nonetheless, you can’t stop this now, even if you told yourself you wanted to, you’re powerless to the ruin and you don’t think you would have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify there isn't going to be any angst in here in terms of Kim choosing Tommy over Trini-- I felt like her previous relationship could be an important part of her development. Thanks for reading and all the positive reaction!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s another stinging reminder that you lose yourself in Kim in an entirely different manner than she does when the two of you are together like this. Kim still attuned to her senses, while your own are all tuned to Kim, a full assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a crazy fall, but am now confident that I can commit back to this story. Thanks for staying with me!

Kim drains you with less than a look. An over the shoulder glance or a brush by you leaves you breathless and you don’t want to be close to anyone because that’s never ended well, yet you it feels uncontrollable, inevitable even, when she captures you. She knows so well her power over you that some part of you hates it. With a word she could have you, with a word she could obliterate you. 

It’s difficult to avoid her in school, as she overtly looks toward you, just asking you to look back. She traps you one day on a seemingly abandoned staircase in the middle of class. How she saw you leave you’ll never be able to figure out. Her lips pressed to your neck expel the full gamut of emotions from your lips. “Kimberly,” you embarrassingly almost moan out, attempting some sort of control in your voice. “Kimberly.” This time you add a slight push, which she returns with a pout before attaching herself to your neck once again. “Anyone could see,” you worriedly exhale. 

“Let them see,” she proclaims with a bite to your ear. “Anyway can’t you hear if someone is coming with your super ranger senses?” 

It’s another stinging reminder that you lose yourself in Kim in an entirely different manner than she does when the two of you are together like this. Kim still attuned to her senses, while your own are all tuned to Kim, a full assault. The break in your conversation does allow you this time to hear the rush of footsteps down the stairs. Clearly, Kim takes it until the last devious moment to put her back to the wall next to you. You’re not sure the name of the jock miscreant in front of you, but certainly could punch him out at the absolutely lusty up and down gaze he delivers towards Kim. “Kimberly Hart, skipping class, you truly have become the school badass.” He edges toward Kim, moving his body slightly closer than makes you comfortable. 

“Hello Michael, what do I owe the pleasure?” Kim shoots back in response. It’s now that you feel her hand begin to push the hem of your shirt up in the space that it meets the wall, her finger tracing the bare skin at the base of your spine. 

Now, you can barely concentrate on the thinly veiled barbs Kim and this baseball playing boy, as evidenced by the t-shirt he wears, throw back and forth at each other. He’s flirting with her and you’re not sure exactly what Kim is doing as her fingertips begin the ascent up towards your bra strap. All you know is your heart is pumping in your ears and Kimberly Hart seems perfectly calm as she deflects an invitation to some sort of party Michael is throwing this evening. “Even if Tommy’s gonna be there,” Michael raises his eyebrows like he has a secret that he’s been waiting to share throughout this entire conversation, like he located the two of them right there simply for this moment. 

Kim’s fingers pause for only one moment before they brush your vertebrae. She’s surprised by this piece of information, a bit thrown off, only for a moment though before she retorts, “I think we both know I don’t need to attend your party to see Tommy. 

At this Michael concedes defeat, arms up in mock surrender. “You should still come though Kim, for old time’s sake, bring Katrina here along too.”

“Trini,” she corrects before you can. “Her name is Trini.”

“Whatever, bring whoever you want, just come.” He smiles then and continues his path down the stairs. 

Kim groans exasperatedly and looks quickly down at her watch. She ducks down to kiss you lightly on the lips in a move that feels so comfortable it makes your heart soar. “As much as I’d like to stay and unpack that whole interaction with you I think Ms. Carter may think I’m cutting off more of my hair if I’m out any longer. I’ll see you later?” You nod as easily as you can. It stops her for a moment, capturing your darting eyes, before she gives in to the demands of required education and turns away from you. 

And it’s not like you think you know all of Kim, like any part of her belongs to you in a way different than anyone she’s ever dated before, but it’s a stinging reminder that Kim has sides of her that you don’t know, sides of her that you might just be keeping her from. As annoyed as she appeared to be you know she took some enjoyment from the comfort of her conversation with this Michael character. There was a familiarity to it in the barbs they traded. They’d done this before. 

So you decide not to read too much into it when Kim texts you around nine that she’s going to head to that party after all and do you want to come? It’s a courtesy you’re assuming, to make sure you don’t show up in her room with no Kim to be found. It’s become a ritual for you in the last month to scale the wall of her home, pushing yourself with a quiet knock into her room. You find her in various states in this moment. She’ll be sitting on her floor a piece of particularly difficult homework quirking one of her eyebrows up, or in her bed her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard, but the one you like best is when she’s not in her room, maybe talking to her parents downstairs or finishing dinner or watching tv. When she finds you waiting in her room she always gives you the same smile, slightly sinister, like you’ve let her in on a secret that she can’t wait to share with the world. Kimberly Hart has more smiles than you thought possible. And you must be becoming sappy because you think they’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

No smiles tonight then as you quickly reply that you planned something with your brothers, not a complete untruth as you challenge them to their favorite video games. That takes enough of your night that you slip into bed comfortably tired, your muscles still aching from your sparring with Zach earlier. This is of course when your night of complete phone silence erupts with a series of pings. You hate that your hearts drops a little when you see the conversation flipping back and forth in your ranger group chat instead of from one particular ranger.

Jason: (12:19 a.m.)  
Kiiiiiimmmmmmmyyyyyyy… were u go?

Zach: (12:19 a.m.)  
xxxxxxoooooooxxxxxxoooooo, j and me are sorry

Billy: (12:20 a.m.)  
This intrusion is much uncalled-for considering my current sleeping status. Please separate yourselves into a unique group chat for this particular conversation.

Zach: (12:20 a.m.)  
sry Bill

Jason: (12:20 a.m.)  
sry bill. 

Jason: (12:20 a.m.)  
Trini????????

Trini: (12:22 a.m.)  
…

Jason: (12:22 a.m.)  
u seen kimmy

Trini: (12:23 a.m.)  
No

Jason: (12:23 a.m.)  
u sure?

Trini: (12:26 a.m.)  
I am sure.

Of course it’s in this moment that this sureness is broken with Kim rocketing through your window and slamming into the opposite wall. A single ow the only confirmation that she has not killed herself in the process. Your mother is quick to the door, knocking apprehensively. “Trini, is everything ok?”

“Just cleaning and slipped, all’s well. Thanks!”

Kim unfolds herself from her place on the floor, exhales, and begins to move toward where you’re sitting up on the edge of your bed. “All good?” Instead of replying to you Kim surges forward, capturing your face with both her hands and straddling you. You can’t help but moan into mouth at the contact, which you feel her smile into your mouth at. You can tell it’s her proud smile, she’s gloating at the sounds she can produce. 

You could probably kiss Kim forever. There’s always something different you notice. A nip she gives your bottom lip, a tongue in the shell of your ear, the heaviness of her palm on your stomach. You’ve found yourself thinking about it all the time and it’s not particularly practical to imagine her hand dipping lower in the middle of English class, all you’re able to do is cross your legs and bite the end of your pencil, the taste of the chalky eraser bringing you back to the fluorescent lights above you. You’ve made out countless times now, really made out, nothing more though even with you aching for it you never push it any further. You’ll probably never be able to kiss anyone again after Kim, after she remembers that she’s normal, which you’re sure will happen soon enough. So it should be the moment you’ve been exactly waiting for when Kim begins playing with the waistband on your pajama shorts, but it makes your stomach drop in a way you certainly don’t want right now. Kim stops kissing you suddenly. She lays a palm against your cheek, scratching at the edge of your eyebrow. “What are you worrying about?”

“Hmm?”

“Trini, I know you’re not here right now, you’re in there.” She taps right in the middle of your forehead. “Come back.” You think in some ways the most romantic thing someone has ever said to you. The way she keeps reaching towards your eyes with her own. Come back to me she means, come back to us. 

“You taste like vodka.” It’s the only thing that you can think to say and you’re uncontrollably reddening as you roll away from her. She doesn’t move with you, simply readjusts herself so she’s sitting with straight back against your headboard. You think you feel her hand reaching out to you, it pulls away far too quickly. “How was the party?”

“Are you upset with me for going?” It’s the smallest and most careful you’ve ever heard Kim be when talking to you.

“No, no, of course not, you should do what you want to do.”

“Are you sure?”

Instead of replying you kiss her, she replies hesitantly until you clash your tongues together and it feels like she melts into you, pushes herself against you. She’s straddling you in less than a moment, your back now replacing her own against the headboard. And for the first time, she’s crossing her arms and pulling her shirt over her head. It’s perhaps the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen, and without doubt the most magnificent thing you’ve ever been invited to touch and you know you’re staring, probably with an awestruck expression, which is quickly confirmed as Kim begins talking. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t know.”

“No, like what?”

Kim’s surprised that you’re pushing back at her here and it takes her a moment to gather herself, and she’s speaking so quietly that it’s only because of the dead of night that you hear her. “Like you think I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“What if you are?”

“I’m not,” she pronounces every syllable like she’s trying to drill them into your head.

“Ok…” you remove your hands from her hips and instinctively move to push them deep into your pockets. The rub is most pajama shorts are lacking in the pocket department so you’re left awkwardly shifting your palms around your bare thighs. “I think you should go.” You barely know why you say it, regret it almost immediately when the warmth of her weight leaves you and she reaches for her shirt and then out the window she goes. You wish you knew what just happened.


End file.
